He was on a stake out when the men came out of nowhere. They had surrounding his car with more firepower than he had anticipated. But he didn't realize how much trouble he was in until one of the masked men asked him to step out of the car. It was perfect fluent English, which means these masked men who were all pointing what he assumed were fully automatic assault rifles at his car were no the Columbians that he was watching the last few days. Things were about to get a little interesting. If they had wanted to kill him, they would have done it already and gotten it over with. They wanted something form him but he had no idea what it could be. It wasn't a bounty hunter because most of those guys either act like cops or that long haired dude on A&E, to the point where you can spot them coming a mile away. His curiosity was really starting to get the best when they covered his head with a felt bag and tossed him into the van. No demands, no requests for intel, just sit there and say nothing. He could have easily escaped the pitiful job they did binding his hands and killed every one of them, but not yet. He wanted to see where this was going.

Moments later he was pulled out of the van and dragged to a room where he was seated in a chair before his hood was removed. It looked like an interrogation room that had just been cleaned. Once his captors left the room, the man had next to no trouble breaking from his restraints and started to roam the room for clues to where he might be. Moments later the door opened, and three men walked in. One of them was a man in a suit, while the others looked like mercenaries, likely there to protect him. The two guards were surprised to see him walking around unrestrained. Before the two guards could respond, the man in the suit raised his hand. "I'm getting the impression you could have escaped from custody any time you wanted."

"That's correct." The prisoner replied.

"And yet you didn't." the man in the suit concluded. "Why?"

"I was curious."

"About what?"

"Whether or not you were worth the effort to kill."

The man in the suit smiled. "I apologize for the abrupt nature my men used to bring you here. All I am asking for is a moment to speak with you and then you're free to go."

The prisoner paused for a moment. "That's it?"

"That's it." The man in the suit confirmed.

"All right." The prisoner said as he walked back to the table and sat down. He looked up at one of the guards. "I'll take my coffee with three sugar and two cream."

The guard paused for a moment and looked back at his boss who nodded. "I'll take mine black." He said before slowly walking over to the table himself. The man in the suit wasn't very old, but he walked with a cane and was carrying a briefcase that he obviously valued enough to not let his goons handle. Once the man sat down in the chair on the other side of the table with a deep huff, he smiled. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I've heard so much about you, I often wonder if the stories are true or if the legend of Frank Castle is a little exaggerated."

"I'm not sure what stories you've heard." Frank replied, "And personally I don't care. It's obvious I'm here for a reason, so let's start with the basics. Who the hell are you?"

"My apologies." The man said as he extended his hand to him. "My name is Alvin Manchester."

Frank sat up in his chair. He was curious before but the man now had his undivided attention. "The Alvin Manchester?"

"I'm afraid so." Alvin replied.

"Senator Alvin Manchester?" Frank asked.

"The very same." Alvin again confirmed.

Frank hopped out of his chair and started to pace around the room "Are you aware that the Columbians I was staking out are killing kids and cops on the streets with weapons that were manufactured by your company?"

"I am very aware of that." Dr. Manchester replied. "Are you aware that over the last four years I've cut down the illegal sale and shipping of my weapons by more than thirty percent?"

"I wasn't." Frank answered.

"I've been working on this issue for a while, Mr. Castle." Alvin said as one of the guards walked back in with two cups of coffee. He placed them down on the table and immediately left. "And while thirty percent is nothing to scoff at, I am not satisfied with this number."

"You could stop making guns." Frank suggested.

"I could, but then someone with far less morals than I would take my place and sales of guns to criminals would increase by thirty percent." Alvin took a sip of his coffee. "Is that something you would prefer?"

Frank walked back to the table and picked up his coffee and took a decent swig. "No, it's not."

"Well that's a start." Alvin said as he took off his jacket and hung it on his chair.

Frank was beginning to lose his patience. "What exactly do you want from me?"

"I wish to hire you." Alvin answered.

"I'm not a mercenary." Frank spat back, almost disgusted by the idea.

"Well, I'd offer you money if you wanted it but that's not what you want." Alvin said as he took another sip of his coffee. "Instead what I offer you is my full support in your quest."

Frank wasn't one to take a gift horse in the mouth but he wasn't one to take charity without knowing their motives. "Why?"

Alvin paused for a moment. "I experienced a tragedy that forced me to understand your perspective. I woke up a week ago with open eyes. I know why you're out there and if it wasn't for this leg I'd pick up a gun and join you."

Frank walked back to the table and took a seat. "What happened?"

"I lost my son." Alvin answered. "Alexander was only twenty years old. He was walking home from the university library when he took a stray bullet that was meant for a gang member who was having a beer in the bar he was walking past."

"That's terrible." Frank said as his own memories of losing his son came back to him as well.

"How did you get past it?" Alvin asked, hoping Castle would have something to say that would help him in his time of pain.

"I didn't." Frank answered as he finished his coffee.

"I see." Alvin said as he sat there for a moment. "Let me clear something up: I'm not here to be your boss. I'm a man who lost his child, same as you, offering to give you whatever you need to take the fight to those son-of-a-bitches."

"You're that angry about it?" Frank asked.

"There's a hole right here in my heart." Alvin said as he pointed to my chest. "Alex was my first born. The night I took him home from the hospital less than a week after he was born, I held him in a rocking chair and sat there until fell asleep. I was so blown away by how amazing he was that I was crying as I watched him sleep. He was so amazing, so beautiful. It was one of the most joyous moments of my life. Burying him was one of the saddest moments of my life. I feel so empty, so lost."

"I'm sorry for your loss." Frank said as he understood exactly what he meant.

"Thank you." Alvin said as he took out a handkerchief and wiped a tear from his cheek. "This is why I understand where you're coming from, Frank. I don't want to hire you… I want to be your partner.

"My partner?" Frank repeated.

"More like a silent partner." Alvin corrected himself, "Someone who supplies funds to cover expenses but doesn't do any of the heavy lifting, which would be your job. I can also give you access to a company that can supply you with mercenaries that can work as your own private SEAL team; a real death squad. And through my company I can even supply you with the best weapons. You'll even have access to prototypes from our military contracts."

"And what do you want in return for all this help?" Frank asked.

"Take the fight to those mother fuckers." Alvin answered as he gave Frank an evil grin. "And kill them all."